


Give Sorrow Words

by LyricalSinger



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Gaius, Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Protective Gwaine, Worried Arthur, merlin whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 14:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11511255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricalSinger/pseuds/LyricalSinger
Summary: Now that Lancelot has passed through the veil, can Merlin learn to carry on without his dearest friend?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to my most excellent beta, smcstrav (sarajm), who listened to me moan and complain when I was having difficulty with this story. I’ve never written Merlin-whump this angsty before and was feeling very unsure; but the World’s Best Beta was always there with excellent suggestions and confidence-boosting comments. Thanks, sarajm; you’re the best!
> 
> First posted on FF.net in April 2016.
> 
> The title comes from William Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”: Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break.”

In the dim twilight, the last of the flames from the funeral pyre sputtered and died, leaving only glowing embers in their wake. The only witness to their passing was a tall, lean, dark-haired young man who had been standing there all afternoon and into the evening, unheeding of the cold or the tears that flowed freely from red-rimmed eyes down thin cheeks.

Shivering slightly in the early evening chill, Merlin hunched his shoulders and crossed his arms, tucking his hands under his arms to try to keep them warm. Despite the evidence before him, he still was having a difficult time believing that Lancelot, his best and dearest friend, was gone, having crossed through the veil to repair the dark scar in the air wrought by Morgause and Morgana.

A _hiss_ sounded as the last bits of steel of Lancelot’s sword finally melted away, taking with them all evidence that the Knight had ever existed. Merlin was distraught and could not help but worry about what Lancelot was facing on the other side of the void. Was he alive or was he instead trapped in some nebulous state? Merlin’s greatest fear was that his friend was being tormented by the dark shades that had so recently terrorized the land.

Guilt was eating away at Merlin’s soul. Earlier he had stood, quiet and unassuming, at Arthur’s side, listening to his prince’s tribute to the fallen knight, hearing Gwen’s confession that Lancelot’s death was her fault, but he knew better. Lancelot had not died to save Camelot, nor had he died to ensure that Arthur returned to his beloved Guinevere; no, Lancelot had given his life so as to ensure that Merlin could live and fulfil his destiny. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t right … but there was nothing Merlin could do to change the past. Instead, he would have to learn how to carry his grief and move forward along the path that the Fates had set for him.

As the embers turned from blazing red to cool amber, Merlin bowed his head and sent a quiet entreaty to the gods, asking that they look after his friend. With one last glance towards the pile of warm ashes sitting in the middle of the courtyard, the warlock finally turned away and with slow steps and a heavy heart, made his way towards the wide Griffin stairway.

Unbeknownst to Merlin, Arthur had spent the last fifteen minutes watching his servant from one of the windows at the top landing of that same staircase. Arthur had been glad to finally find his servant. He’d begun to worry when, hours after the ceremony had ended and everyone had returned to their duties, Merlin was nowhere to be found. He had seen how upset Merlin was, and while he knew that the lad wouldn’t do anything stupid the Prince decided that, for his own peace of mind, he should try to locate his manservant. Gaius had been unable to provide any information and the knights, to a man, all said they had last seen Merlin standing at the edge of the courtyard. But as that had been several hours earlier, Arthur had been certain that he could not still be there.

He’d been relieved to have been proven wrong when, on rounding the corner of the landing at the top of the staircase, he’d spotted Merlin through one of the large windows. No torches had been lit outside, but the glow of the funeral pyre had provided enough light for Arthur to discern his servant standing tall and still, except for an occasional shudder from the cold, gazing at the pile of embers at his feet. Arthur had come to a standstill at that point, surprised to see Merlin standing so sombrely; he honestly could not remember the last time he’d seen the other man quiet for any length of time.

The prince had watched through the window, hesitant to interrupt his friend’s grieving. However, on noticing that Merlin’s shivering had increased, Arthur had pushed himself away from the window frame, intent on chivvying Merlin into the warmth of the castle. He was spared the need to take further action, as just then he saw the young man’s shoulders rise and fall in a long and silent sigh. Merlin turned and plodded across the paving stones, finally reaching the stairs, presumably heading towards his shared rooms with Gaius.

Without moving from his place, Arthur watched his servant sluggishly make his way up the stairs, unheeding of his surroundings.

Arthur realized that Merlin was completely lost in his own grief, and so kept silent when the servant passed right by him without noticing. Arthur had lost many friends over the years and he understood how Merlin must be feeling. _Ah, well, I’ll leave him be tonight. He just needs a good night’s sleep_ , thought Arthur. Once Merlin had disappeared into the corridor towards the physician’s chambers, he turned and slowly headed towards the Great Hall.

* * * * *

The next morning, rather than the usual cheerful “Rise and shine, Arthur” accompanied by a waft of cool air as Merlin yanked the bedcovers down from where they were customarily tucked under Arthur’s chin, the prince was instead greeted by a quiet cough and a rather intense, “Good morning, Sire.”

Cracking open his eyelids, Arthur beheld the rather unwanted form of George standing at the side of the bed with a damp cloth in one hand and a goblet in the other.

“George? Where’s Merlin?” asked Arthur as he sat up and wiped his face and hands with the warm cloth.

“Word was sent that Merlin is unwell, so I have been assigned to take over his duties for the day.” George’s words were accompanied with a look that indicated his disbelief that anyone would shirk their responsibilities simply because they were ill. “I have arranged your breakfast on the table and have placed your clothes behind the screen. Is there anything else you require of me?”

Waving his hand at the servant, Arthur responded, “No, thank you, George. I have a council meeting later this morning and I don’t believe I will require your presence until lunchtime.”

“Very good, Sire,” answered George as he gave the room one final assessment and then headed towards the door.

“Actually, George, wait a minute. Do you know what’s wrong with Merlin?”

“No, my lord. All I was told is that Gaius sent a message to the Steward advising of Merlin’s illness and asking that someone else be assigned to assist you today. I was very happy to volunteer,” responded George with a small smile.

“Ah, yes … um … thank you, George, for stepping forward.” Rising from his bed and walking towards the table where a veritable bounty of food was laid out, Arthur added, “I’ll see you later then.”

With a bow, George departed. Arthur heaved a sigh of relief once the door closed behind the servant. It wasn’t that he had anything against George, or that he didn’t like the man; rather, Arthur had become used to Merlin’s offhanded ways and now he was also worried about his servant. Merlin had been known to show up at Arthur’s chambers coughing up a lung or running a fever, so the lad had to be very ill if Gaius was keeping him close.

Knowing that he had some spare time before the council was to meet, once he had finished his breakfast, Arthur dressed and made his way towards Gaius’ chambers. A quiet knock on the battered wooden door, a gentle push and Arthur stepped into the room, hesitating in the doorway. The room was bright with the morning sun streaming in the open shutters and it created a pool of golden light on Gaius’ worktable. The sun’s rays glanced off the various bottles and vials on the table and created a multi-coloured mosaic on the floor.

Gaius was sitting at the far end of the table with a book in front of him, but on Arthur’s entrance he looked up and gave the other man a smile.

“Good morning, Arthur. I’m surprised to see you here this early; is there something you need?” asked the elderly man.

“Good morning, Gaius,” responded Arthur as he stepped further into the room. “Actually, I came to check on Merlin.”

“Did you not get the message he was unwell?” asked Gaius with some concern. “I did send a note to the Steward for him to arrange for someone to take over Merlin’s responsibilities for the day.”

Arthur waved his hand negligently through the air and responded, “No need for concern, Gaius. George was extremely happy to advise that he would be serving me today.”

At the disdain in Arthur’s voice, Gaius let out a small chuckle. “Ahh, George is it?” he asked with an audible smirk.

"Yes, George,” responded Arthur with roll of his eyes. “I have to head to a council meeting shortly, but I actually came by to check on Merlin.” Not wanting to let Gaius know how worried he truly was, Arthur hemmed and hawed a bit before adding, “You know, just making sure he’s not lolling around in bed looking for some pampering!”

Gaius smiled to himself; Arthur was fooling no one with his studied nonchalance. Gaius was quite aware of the feelings Arthur and Merlin harboured for each other. In fact, the physician was very pleased with the friendship that had developed between his prince and his ward; they honestly cared about the other’s wellbeing and looked out for each other, in their own ways.

“Actually, Arthur, it seems that Merlin caught a chill yesterday. He finally showed up late yesterday evening, said nothing more than ‘I’ _m for bed_ ’ and then went directly to his room. He was restless through the night and when I went to check on him, he had developed a low fever and was coughing slightly. I finally gave him a sleeping draught about two hours ago as he had remained awake throughout the night. I think with some sleep and rest today, he’ll be much better by tomorrow.”

Arthur’s face fell as he listed to Gaius’ tale. “It doesn’t surprise me that Merlin’s sick,” he said. “I finally located him early yesterday evening standing in the courtyard. It seems he stayed out there all day, watching the funeral pyre burn itself out. And the _idiot_ wasn’t wearing the proper clothing for such an undertaking. He hadn’t bothered to put on a warm jacket and by the time I found him, I could see him shivering even from where I stood!”

“He was outside _all day_?” asked Gaius with surprise. “Well, he certainly didn’t mention that fact to me when he finally made it home yesterday. It’s no wonder the lad is ill.” Gaius shook his head sadly and decided that once Merlin was awake, they were going to have a serious discussion about looking after one’s self.

“Well, I won’t keep you any longer, Gaius. Would you please tell Merlin that I stopped by and that I expect to see him back at work tomorrow?”

“Of course, Arthur. I’ll let Merlin know you were asking after him.”

“Don’t put it like that, Gaius!” spluttered Arthur as he turned towards the door. “He’ll think I was _worried_.”

“Of course, Sire,” responded Gaius dryly. Then, as the door closed, he muttered to himself, “Let’s not let people know you actually care for the boy!”

Gaius spent most of the morning puttering around his worktable, replenishing some of his medicines and organizing the cabinet where the bottles were stored. Just before lunch, he heard a thud from Merlin’s room, following by a bout of coughing.

Grabbing the bottle of cough syrup that he had readied earlier, Gaius headed up the small flight of stairs and into Merlin’s room, to be greeted by the sight of the young warlock sitting at the edge of the bed, his cheeks slightly flushed with fever and his hair standing up all over his head.

“How are you feeling, Merlin?” asked Gaius as he poured the contents of the bottle into the goblet of water sitting on the bedside table and handed it to his ward. “Drink this first, then talk.”

Obediently, Merlin downed the cough syrup, cleared his throat and then looked up at the physician, his eyes still glassy from the fever. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a cart,” he rasped as he ran his hands over his face.

“That would be the fever,” responded Gaius. “Do you mind telling me _what you were thinking standing out in the cold all day_? Honestly, Merlin; I thought you were smarter than that! You’re still not fully recovered from your ordeal with the durocha. While I honestly don’t know of anyone else who could have survived that attack, you need to remember that despite your talents, you’re still only human. You need to take better care of yourself, my boy.”

Though his words were rather harsh, his actions were gentle as he took the empty goblet from Merlin’s hand and then helped his patient lie back on the bed. As he straightened the bedcovers and pulled them up around Merlin’s shoulders, Gaius finally took a good look at the young man. Merlin’s face was pale, with two red spots on his cheeks, and tears were balanced on the edges of his lids ready to fall.

“Oh, Merlin,” murmured Gaius as he ran his hand across his ward’s brow in a soothing manner, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I know you’re having a difficult time and my temper isn’t helping any, is it?”

Merlin took in a shuddering breath and as he blinked, one stray tear slipped from the corner of his eye and slid towards his temple. “I’m sorry, Gaius,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to upset you, or to make myself sick. It’s just that Lancelot …” His voice cracked with emotion and after swallowing a couple of times, Merlin continued. “It may sound stupid, but I didn’t want Lancelot to be alone. I know he’s not there. I mean, I know he’s somewhere on the other side of the void, but it’s all my fault and I should have realized his plans and stopped him …” His voice trailed away as he turned his head and stared into the corner of the room.

“Merlin, what Lancelot did was a terrible, but wonderful thing. He saved us all. He made his decision, and sometimes you have to let people travel their own path even if it hurts you deeply.”

Merlin brought his fevered gaze back to the older man and protested, “But Gaius, Lancelot didn’t do it to save Arthur or Camelot … he stepped through to void to save _me_! Why did he do it? It’s _my_ destiny to save Arthur, not his. Lancelot should never have been caught up in this whole disaster.”

“Merlin,” answered Gaius gently, “if Lancelot did it for you, should you not consider that perhaps saving you or even healing the void was _his_ destiny? It certainly won’t make your pain go away, but you need to remember that we cannot control our own fate, let alone that of another.”

“It could also simply be that his love for you was so great that he was determined to save your life, just as you would surely have done for him. The only thing I do know for certain is that Lancelot’s decision was his to make, and by questioning it you are doing his memory a disservice.”

Gaius stood and gently patted Merlin’s shoulder. “You need to rest and to heal. Get some sleep and we’ll talk again later.”

Merlin nodded, turned on his side and curled himself up into a small ball of misery. As the door closed behind Gaius, Merlin let fall the tears he had been holding back. He missed his dearest friend so much; but Gaius was right. He needed to stop questioning the reasons behind Lancelot’s sacrifice and instead remember the good times he and Lancelot had shared.

The sleeping draught that Gaius had slipped into the cough syrup finally began to do its work and soon, between the medicine and his exhaustion, Merlin’s eyelids closed and he slipped into a healing sleep.

Merlin slept away the whole afternoon, and by the time he awoke his fever had abated and his cough had eased as well. His bones and muscles still ached from the violence of the durocha’s attack, but all in all he was feeling much better physically.

Mentally, though, Merlin was still wracked with guilt and he felt like he was drowning in the pain caused by Lancelot’s death. The young man sat up, rubbed his hands across his face and through his hair, making it even messier that usual. He couldn’t stop his brain from whirring and he kept visualizing Lancelot stepping into the dark split in the night air. He was emotionally exhausted and, though hungry, he couldn’t summon the wherewithal to rise from his perch on the edge of his bed.

Dinner that evening promised to be quite a feast, and had come courtesy of Arthur. Not twenty minutes earlier, one of the household servants had arrived with a large covered tray and best wishes for a speedy recovery from the Prince. Once space had been cleared and the tray placed on the table, Gaius uncovered a golden-brown roasted chicken, roasted potatoes glistening with butter, some mashed turnip with sage and a small loaf of Cook’s delicious honey bread, still warm from the oven. The servant had also left a jug of mead and a plate that held some cheese, a few apples and some berries.

As soon as Gaius heard Merlin stirring, he quickly set out a plate and cup at his place at the table. He sat down and waited for Merlin before starting in his own dinner, but the boy never appeared. Concerned, Gaius rose and, stopping at the bottom of the short flight of steps, called, “Merlin, are you all right? Dinner is set on the table. Come, you’ve not eaten anything since yesterday. I promise you’ll feel better with some food in your stomach.”

Gaius could almost hear Merlin thinking of a way to refuse the gentle command, and he was just about to head up to see what was the matter when Merlin called through the closed door in a tired voice, “All right Gaius. I’ll be there shortly.”

Despite his deep concern over the tone and sound of Merlin’s response, all Gaius said was, “Don’t take too long, my boy, or your dinner will be cold,” before he returned to the table and slowly began slicing the honey bread that accompanied the repast.

By the time Merlin finally made it down to the main room, draped in his blanket, Gaius had placed a small amount of food on the lad’s dinner plate and had poured him some fresh, hot tea.

As he sat at the table, Merlin glanced idly at the food before him and said, “What’s all this?”

“It seems Prince Arthur is concerned about your welfare; he sent tonight’s dinner. I must be sure to thank him,” said Gaius as he picked up his fork and began eating.

“Hmm … yes. I’ll thank him when I see him,” murmured Merlin, slowly picking up his fork and half-heartedly taking a bite of potato. He gazed at his plate without really seeing it, and by the time Gaius had finished eating, Merlin had barely made a dent into what was on his plate. He’d managed about three mouthfuls of potato and a little bit of turnip. The chicken and the bread had been ignored.

“Merlin,” admonished Gaius, “you must eat. You need to regain your strength and the best way to do that is through rest and good food.”

Looking up at his mentor, and seeing the concern in the older man’s watery blue eyes, Merlin sighed and said, “I know, Gaius. But I’m not really very hungry right now. I’ll finish my tea and then I think I’ll go back to bed and get some more sleep.”

Not wanting to upset Merlin any more than he already was, Gaius simply said, “Of course, Merlin. That is probably a wise idea. Do you want another sleeping draught tonight?”

“No, Gaius, I don’t think so. The one I took yesterday gave me horrible dreams and I’d rather not go through that again. I’ll be fine,” and rising from the table, Merlin slowly made his way towards his room, his blanket trailing behind him.

He had entered his room and was just turning to close the door when Gaius spoke. “Merlin, you know that I am always here for you, should you wish to talk. And you have friends whom I am sure would be more than happy to help you with anything.”

“I know,” responded Merlin with a tiny half-smile. “Thank you, Gaius. Maybe tomorrow, but right now I just want to get some sleep.”

“Of course, dear boy. Get some rest and don’t hesitate to call if you need anything. Sleep well.”

As the door to Merlin’s room closed and he heard the young man settle on his bed, Gaius couldn’t help but worry anew about the young man.


	2. Chapter 2

At Gaius’ insistence, Merlin had taken a second day off of his duties to recover from the trials of the past week, and those days of rest had done wonders for his physical health. By the afternoon of the second day Merlin’s fever and cough had disappeared and even the aches and pains he’d suffered at the hands of the durocha had abated significantly; but by then the young man was bored to tears

Gaius had been insistent that Merlin was not to undertake any task more strenuous than helping him prepare several new batches of medicine, which meant that the youth had spent long hours doing things like crushing rosemary and watching vervain steep in hot water. At one point, he was processing rosemary, stirring the steeping mixture, sorting through a bunch of yarrow to get rid of any bruised leaves and thinking _Honestly_ , _I’m beginning to smell like the kitchen garden!_

While Merlin was definitely feeling better, emotionally he was still struggling to accept Lancelot’s passing. Though it had only been a few days since Lancelot’s death, and he knew it would take time to put his grief aside, Merlin felt like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Every action he undertook reminded him of his friend and it seemed he was never far from tears. Fortunately, Gaius’ gentle demeanour and kind gestures had done much to comfort the young warlock.

That evening, after the two men had finished their evening meal and Merlin had washed the few dishes they had used, the servant poured another cup of tea and placed it in front of the physician together with a fruit scone left over from breakfast.

“What’s this?” asked Gaius, looking up from a scroll that he had been intently studying.

“I just wanted to thank you for your patience with me over the past days. I know I’ve not been the easiest person to get along with and … well … thank you,” said Merlin as he placed a small pot of blackberry jam on the table at Gaius’ right hand.

“Oh, my boy, you are most welcome. I know it’s been hard for you, and I am so sorry for everything you’ve been through.” Reaching out, Gaius broke the scone and handed a portion to Merlin. “Here, I think you deserve a treat as well.”

Smiling slightly, Merlin took the scone and quickly devoured it. Brushing his hands together, he said, “I think I’ll head to bed. Good night, Gaius.”

“Merlin, just to be sure – you are going to return to your duties tomorrow, correct? Now that the fever and the aches are gone, I’m presuming you’re feeling well enough to rescue Arthur from the clutches of George?”

Gaius’ jest warranted nothing more than a tiny snort from his young ward. “Yes, Gaius; I’ll be back to my regular duties tomorrow,” said Merlin as he mounted the steps to his room. “I’m sure Arthur will be pleased to rid himself of George’s efficient ways,” he added as he closed the door behind him.

To the closed door, Gaius whispered, “Sleep well, Merlin.”

* * * * *

The next morning, Merlin was up early and after having picked up Arthur’s breakfast from the kitchens, he quickly made his way along the corridors to the prince’s room. It was still relatively early and Merlin had the halls to himself, for which he was grateful. He wasn’t feeling up to speaking to anyone just yet.

Receiving no response to his gentle knocks, Merlin pushed open the door and entered Arthur’s chambers. The curtains were still closed, leaving the room shrouded in a dim light. From the lump in the middle of the bed and the soft sound of breathing, it was obvious Arthur had not heard his manservant enter.

Merlin carefully placed the tray of foodstuffs on the table that stood in front of the window and looked around. George had obviously taken excellent care of both Arthur and his chambers during Merlin’s absence, for not a boot was out place and the desk held only two small piles of parchment.

Merlin turned towards the window and grasped the long, red drapes in his hands. Standing there, running the expensive fabric through his fingers, Merlin immediately saw in his mind’s eye the scene from several days earlier. He was standing at Arthur’s right, Lancelot’s dragon cloak neatly folded and resting on his flat palms with the knight’s sword laid across the crimson fabric.

Merlin could recall the texture of every strand of the woollen cloak on his fingertips and the drapes that he held at present felt _exactly_ the same. The young warlock bowed his head and stemmed the tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks. Taking a long, silent breath, Merlin straightened his spine and then flung the drapes aside, letting the bright morning sun fill the room with a golden light.

The sound of rustling fabric and the aroma of warm bread had served to rouse Arthur from his sleep. Pulling the covers over his head, the prince clenched his eyes shut and sighed. Another morning of George’s unfailing enthusiasm and fawning; Arthur wasn’t sure he could face it again.

Then, without warning, the blankets were unceremoniously yanked towards the foot of the bed, letting a draft of cold air swirl over Arthur and cause his flesh to break into goose bumps. With eyes still closed, Arthur slid down the bed, hands flailing in a useless attempt to locate his bedcovers. A familiar voice said, “C’mon Arthur, it’s time to get up,” and the blonde’s eyes whipped open to see Merlin’s welcome presence at the side of the bed.

“Merlin,” said Arthur, almost joyously, as he sat up and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “You’re here! It’s good to see you.” Realizing that his words may be taken as _caring_ , Arthur quickly backpedalled, “I mean … how are you feeling?” he asked as he made his way towards the table and his breakfast.

“I’m fine, Arthur,” responded Merlin as he proceeded to straighten the bedclothes and plump up the pillows. “Oh,” he added as he stood and turned towards the prince, “thank you so much for the dinner you sent for Gaius and me. It was very kind and we both appreciated it.”

Looking up from the piece of warm bread that he was presently drowning in honey, Arthur smiled at his servant and said, “Well, I really did it for Gaius, you know. I figured that if he had to spend the entire day bowing to your every whim, it wouldn’t be fair to make him cook as well!”

Merlin smiled slightly at Arthur’s jest; despite the other man’s words, he knew that Arthur truly cared for his wellbeing.

“Knowing George, things were completely under control during my absence,” said Merlin as he opened the wardrobe to select Arthur’s clothes for the day. A long groan sounded from the table as Arthur reached for his goblet.

“Under control is one way to put it,” the prince said. “Or you could just tell it like it is and say that he completely took over any and all decisions with regard to my wardrobe, my food, the appearance of my chambers and the state of my armour. It was a nightmare!” Arthur sighed slightly and added, “I am glad you’re back, Merlin, but I have to ask – are you okay? And I don’t mean the cold or whatever it was that laid you low. Have you recovered fully from the durocha’s attack? I mean, you obviously only got a glancing blow because you’re still around to tell the tale, but ….”

“I am fine Arthur, really,” asserted Merlin. “I just needed a few days’ rest, is all.”

Arthur studied his manservant closely. While it was obvious that Merlin had indeed shucked off the remnants of the attack, it was also apparent that the younger man was still not up to snuff. He was pale-looking, with dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. “And … well, I’m sorry to bring it up but … what about what happened with Lancelot? How are you doing with that?”

On hearing his friend’s name, Merlin felt his shoulders start to curl up towards his ears and he felt tears beginning to make themselves known … again. Stiffening his spine, Merlin purposely lowered his shoulders and blinked rapidly several times. “I will be all right, Arthur. It will take some time, I know, and it all feels a bit raw still, but … I will be fine. Really.”

Arthur smiled sadly at his manservant; the pain Merlin was carrying was there for anyone to see, but it was also apparent that Merlin really did not want to talk about it right then. “Of course, Merlin; I don’t doubt it. But, if you ever feel the need to talk, I’m always available. Lancelot was my friend too."

Giving the prince a rather watery smile, Merlin whispered, “I know. Thank you, Arthur.”

The two men were silent a moment before Arthur cleared his throat and said, “Well, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me. I’ve got a council meeting shortly and then I have to speak with Leon about the new batch of trainees … and I’ve got to find some time to spend with my father. It seems likely that I won’t require your assistance, Merlin, until early this afternoon, when I need to be on the training grounds.”

“All right, Arthur; I’ll look for you then. While you finish eating, I’ll set your clothing behind the screen.”

Once Arthur had dressed and rushed out of the room, shoving one last piece of honey-soaked bread into his mouth, Merlin looked around the room. Really, George had done an exceptional job keeping Arthur’s bad habits under control: there were no clothes crumpled in the corner, or thrown over the back of one of the several chairs scatted about the room; his boots were polished and set in pairs beside the wardrobe; even the floor was shiny and clean!

All that was left for Merlin to do was collect the remains of breakfast and return everything to the kitchens. Then he had to complete several small tasks for Gaius before meeting up with Arthur again later in the day.

Merlin had returned the breakfast tray to the kitchens and was heading along the passageway towards the main staircase when he heard a voice calling his name. Turning around, he saw Leon coming towards him, with a smile on his face.

“Merlin!” he said as he stopped in front of the younger man and clasped his arm in greeting. “I heard from Arthur that you were not well these past two days. You look a little pale still, but how are you feeling? Are you fully recovered from the durocha’s attack?” From the look on the knight’s face, it was apparent that he had been concerned about Merlin’s welfare.

Smiling slightly, Merlin said, “I’m much better, Leon; thank you for asking. I think it was a combination of the effects of the magic and Lance …” His voice caught. Quickly clearing his throat, the servant continued, “… and standing out in the cold a couple of days ago.”

With a sympathetic grimace, Leon squeezed Merlin’s shoulder and said, “I understand, Merlin. Well, I am happy to see you up and about in any case; Arthur has been an absolute _bear_.” Glancing around to ensure that no one could overhear them, Leon added with a grin, “I honestly thought that at one point Arthur would take to hiding in my wardrobe just to get away from George! I’ve never seen him spend so much time in the lists as I have these past days!”

Merlin snorted slightly at the thought of Arthur cowering in the other man’s room and said, “Well, you don’t have to worry about that any more, Leon. I’m back to my duties and hopefully my return will mean Arthur can stop haunting your rooms.”

“I appreciate that, Merlin; I truly do. I mean, Arthur is good fun but at some point I really do need to get some sleep. Well, I’ve got to get to the armoury and take a look at the new trainees that arrived yesterday. With luck, they won’t all be pathetic whiners … but I hold no hope. I’ll see you later, Merlin. Just remember, take care of yourself and don’t overdo it on your first day back to work.”

“Thanks Leon, and I’ll take care,” said Merlin as he watched the blond stride confidently along the hallway towards the castle armoury. With a small gesture towards the young servant, Leon disappeared around a corner.

Gathering his thoughts back from where they had strayed, Merlin pulled himself together and hurried along the hall, down the wide steps that led to the courtyard and made his way across the paving stones. He had several stops to make for Gaius, one of which was at the glassmaker’s booth to pick up some vials the physician had commissioned. Knowing his tendency to be slightly clumsy on occasion, and not wanting to risk carrying around the delicate glass bottles longer than necessary, Merlin quickly decided that he’d leave that errand for last and instead turned towards the kitchen gardens to gather up the mint and feverfew that the physician had requested.

Merlin stepped through the small door that led into the kitchen gardens and pulled it firmly shut behind him. After taking a few steps along the path, the young man stopped and looked around. All he could see was the lush green of growing plants and he was happy to note that he was the only person wandering the garden paths.  

Merlin sighed deeply and then, raising his face towards the sun he took in another deep breath. For the first time in days, a real smile appeared on the man’s face.   Here was the smell of green, growing things; here was the smell of _life_. Opening his eyes, he let his gaze flit over the feathery tops of carrots, by-pass the tall plants laden with beans, and bounce off the stiff green tops of the leeks, simply enjoying the view. He let his sight rest momentarily on the fruit trees in the far corner of the garden – there were apple, plum and his favourite, the wild cherry trees.

The warlock was sorely tempted to steal a few cherries for himself, but they were not quite ripe and he could still recall the one time he’d gorged himself on unripe cherries. He’d been ill for days and his mother had been quite upset with him. Mind you, he’d only been eight years old at the time, but it was a lesson well learned.

Instead, Merlin let the small bag he was carrying slip from his shoulder as he made his way towards the herb section of the garden. It was his favourite place in the entire garden. Long raised beds held mint, sage, chives, thyme and rosemary plants amongst others. To one side was another section that held lavender and vervain, while a smaller bed located in the far corner held the plants that were so useful in Gaius’ medicines.

Merlin carefully retrieved several handfuls of both the mint and feverfew that Gaius needed and after carefully placing them in his satchel, he swung the bag over his shoulder and headed back towards the door set in the tall stone wall, but not before snatching a few early strawberries off one of the plants.

Though warm from the sun, the berries were tart on the tongue and Merlin’s nose wrinkled as he chewed and swallowed the few berries he’d stolen. Popping the last berry into his mouth, he was struck with a memory.

Not two weeks earlier, he’d been in the garden collecting some herbs for Gaius, and Lancelot had followed along to keep him company. The two men had enjoyed a few moments of relaxation; Merlin slowing gathering up various plants and leaves and Lancelot simply wandering along the paths, delighting in a few moments of quiet. When Lancelot had made his way back to Merlin, he opened his hand to show four tiny strawberries.

“They just fell into my hand,” joked the knight as he popped one into his mouth.

“Well, it would be a shame to let them go to waste,” responded Merlin as he took two and quickly bit down. Then he spluttered at the sharp taste that filled his mouth. “Lancelot,” he choked out, “they’re not even ripe yet!”

Lancelot grinned at his companion. “Well … they’re almost ripe!” he said as he cheerfully ate the remaining berry.

Merlin smiled sadly at the memory and then a wave of melancholy overtook him. A tear slipped down his cheek as he realized that never again would he enjoy something as simple as eating strawberries with his friend.

Hitching his bag higher on his shoulder, Merlin determinedly pushed away his dark thoughts and continued on with his errands. He made a few medical deliveries and then stopped at the blacksmith’s forge to commission a new pair of scissors for Gaius – they were his prized possession, but they had been used and sharpened so often that they no longer held a keen edge.

His last stop was the glassmaker’s. Stepping into the small building, Merlin was struck anew at the glassmaker’s talents; not only did he make the small vials that Gaius used for his medicines, Alan was also an artist and had, on occasion, created some beautiful glasses and vases for use up at the castle. Laid out on a small table was a collection of about twenty vials of various sizes; these were presumably the goods destined for the physician’s use.

“Good morning, Merlin,” called Alan from his work space, which was visible at the back of the hut. “You’ve come for Gaius’ order, I presume? Just give me a moment and I’ll help you wrap everything up.”

“Thanks, Alan.   I appreciate the help,” answered Merlin as he began pulling some soft cloths out of his satchel and laying them on the table. Alan shortly appeared at his side and the two men quickly had all the vials safely wrapped and stowed in Merlin’s satchel, nestled up against the herbs.

Once the last wrapped package had been gently placed in the bag, Merlin picked it up and, holding it close to his chest, looked up at Alan and said, “Thanks. Gaius will be very glad to receive these.”

“My pleasure,” responded Alan. “Be careful on your way back to the castle,” he added. Merlin smiled slightly and as he turned to leave, Alan said, “Merlin … is everything okay? You’re not getting sick are you?”

“No, no, I’m fine Alan,” said the warlock as he looked town at the table top.

“It’s just … well, you seem rather pale and your eyes are bloodshot … and...” Realizing what he had said, and knowing the close friendship that existed between Lancelot and Merlin, Alan quickly bit off the rest of his sentence. Looking closely at the young man standing in front of him, Alan saw that what he had taken as an indication of illness was rather more than that. The pale look and red eyes meant so much more. “I’m sorry, Merlin,” said the glassmaker in a low tone as he saw tears in other man’s eyes, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Merlin sniffed slightly and said, “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” But his rapid breathing told a different tale.

Alan rounded the table and, grasping Merlin’s elbow, said, “Merlin, you know that there is no shame in mourning the loss of a friend, right? I know how close you and Lancelot were. He was a good man and will be sorely missed.”

“Yes, he will. Thank you, Alan,” whispered Merlin as he once again gathered his bag close and headed out the door.

Watching Merlin make his way slowly along the path towards the castle gates, Alan could only hope there were some at the castle who would recognize that Merlin was in pain and would be able to help him through these difficult days.

Later that same day, Merlin was standing at the edge of the training grounds watching Arthur and Leon putting the new trainees through their paces. While the small group of teenagers were not as hopeless as Leon had feared, they were certainly a long way from being competent. Merlin really should have been sharpening the few swords that were hanging in the rack, but watching the group of young men flailing around with blunted swords was much more entertaining than work.

Watching the group and listening to Leon and Arthur blister the air with their harsh, but well-deserved, comments, Merlin did not hear Percival and Gwaine come up behind him.

“Merlin,” said Gwaine as he clapped the other man on his shoulder, “it’s good to see you! How are you?”

Jumping from fright, Merlin turned to the two knights and laying his hand over his heart, said, “Gwaine, don’t _do_ that! You scared me nearly half to death!”

“Sorry, Merlin,” said Gwaine with a grin, “I thought you heard us.” The dark-haired knight was just about to say something else when Arthur’s bellow from the grassy sward had him rushing towards two youths who had collapsed on the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“No, don’t move!” yelled Gwaine as he approached the young men. “What did you do?”

Merlin watched the goings-on in front of him with a distant look, not really paying attention to what was happening on the grass. He was lost in his thoughts again. Percival, in the meantime, stood quietly at the warlock’s side, dividing his gaze between the training grounds and Merlin. The servant sensed the large man standing at his side, but was grateful for the other man’s silence. Then, in a low voice, Percival said, “I miss him too.”

Shocked out of his contemplations, Merlin turned to Percival and spluttered, “I … what … what was that?”

“I miss him, too,” repeated Percival. “Lancelot was there for me in my darkest hours and through his friendship and a great deal of nagging, he brought me out of myself and encouraged me to live again. You know that my family was slaughtered by Cenred’s men. I was lost and despairing when he found me. But his friendship – well, everyone’s friendship – helped me heal and carry on.”

Merlin stared at the big man, amazed. He was sure he’d never heard Percival speak so many words at one time.

“I know how close you and he were,” Percival continued. “And believe me when I say I understand how hard things are for you right now. But don’t forget, you’ve got plenty of friends who are worried about you and want to help. All you have to do is ask.”

Merlin swallowed the lump that had appeared in his throat at Percival’s speech. He was touched by the kindness in the other man’s voice and words, and with his voice cracking from emotion, he said, “I know … it’s just that … well … thank you, Percival. I appreciate your words so very much.”

With a small smile, Percival nudged Merlin’s shoulder and said, “Why don’t you come to my chambers after tonight’s meal? We’ll have a drink and toast Lancelot’s memory.”

“I’d like that very much,” said Merlin.

“I’ll see you later then. Meanwhile, I’d better get in there and give Leon a hand with those striplings. I think he’s got his work cut out for him!” Percival then strode onto the training grounds, turning to give Merlin a smile before Leon noticed him and put him to work.

Merlin sighed to himself, and then reached out to grab one of the dulled swords. He had work to do, and as Gaius had once told him: _hard work is a balm for the soul_. Merlin could only hope those words would prove to be true.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Merlin sighed to himself, and then reached out to grab one of the dulled swords. He had work to do, and as Gaius had once told him: hard work is a balm for the soul. Merlin could only hope those words would prove to be true._

Gaius’ words unfortunately proved to be only partly true; while performing his daily duties did help keep Merlin’s mind focussed to some extent and bring him some much-needed calm, problems still arose when he found himself stuck in a mundane job. Whether it was sharpening swords, polishing Arthur’s armour or pounding herbs for Gaius, tasks that only engaged his hands allowed the young warlock’s mind to wander down pathways better avoided.

Soon a week had gone by, and while it seemed to Merlin like everyone else had moved on from recent events, he couldn’t say the same for himself. He was exhausted and weighed down by his grief and his guilt and though he tried to smile, it was becoming more and more difficult.

Merlin was beginning to withdraw into himself, an act that gravely concerned Gaius. Soon even Arthur noticed that his ever-cheerful servant was much less inclined to talk than usual. Merlin was still polite and kind to everyone he met, but his spontaneous outbursts were few and far between. Arthur found himself missing the other man’s cheeky grin and impertinent words, something he had certainly never imagined would happen!

One afternoon, about three weeks after Lancelot’s passing, Arthur sent Merlin out on a few errands and quickly made his way to Gaius’ chambers to have a few words with the physician.

Arriving at the elderly man’s rooms, Arthur saw that the door was ajar and he could hear the gentle clinks of glassware coming from inside. _Thank goodness_ , thought Arthur, _Gaius is in._ Knocking on the door and pushing it open, Arthur stepped into the sunlit room and let his eyes wander around for a moment. Though he would never admit it, Arthur loved spending time in Gaius’ rooms. There was always something interesting bubbling in a flask over the open flame and the rooms usually smelt of crushed herbs and foreign spices. There was a _hominess_ to the place that appealed to the Prince.

“Gaius, are you busy?” asked the blond as he turned his gaze towards the physician.

“Arthur, what brings you here?” asked Gaius as he looked up from the bowl sitting in front of him on the table. The contents of the bowl, from the little Arthur could see, looked like nothing more than green goo, but Arthur had learned very early on never to ask Gaius what he was working on. That simple question often led to a lengthy explanation that usually left Arthur feeling slightly queasy.

“Merlin’s running some errands for me and I was hoping that I could speak with you about him,” said Arthur, concern was evident in his voice.

“About Merlin? What’s wrong? Has something happened?” queried Gaius worriedly as he pushed the bowl to the side and gestured for Arthur to sit.

“No ... well, yes … I don’t know,” exclaimed Arthur as he ignored Gaius’ gesture and instead paced the room rather frantically. “I mean, he seems fine, and he keeps telling me that everything is all right, but there’s something … something _different_ about Merlin. I know he was terribly upset at Lancelot’s death, but that was weeks ago! Surely he can’t still be dwelling on it? I’m getting rather worried about him, Gaius.”

Gaius sat at the table with a sad look in his eyes, watching the prince striding back and forth from one end of the table to the next. Arthur looked so young at the moment, with worry evident on his face and in the way he kept running his hands through his hair. Taking pity on the young man, Gaius stood up, poured some water into a goblet and handed it to Arthur saying, “Arthur, please, sit down and drink this. You’re working yourself into a state.”

“I’m not working myself into a state, Gaius!” snapped Arthur as he sat down at the table and drained the goblet. Glancing down into the now-empty mug, Arthur raised his eyes to meet Gaius’ gaze and, with a rueful chuckle, said, “Okay, maybe I _am_ a little upset. But Gaius, I don’t know what to do to help Merlin.”

“I know, Arthur; I know you’re worried. But I don’t think there’s anything we can do for Merlin right now, except be there for him. Lancelot was Merlin’s best and closest friend, and the circumstances of his passing were unimaginable. You know what Merlin’s like – he’s always the first to step in to help. But this time, there was nothing he could do. Lancelot made his decision to save you, to save all of us, and Merlin was not even given the chance to say good-bye.”

“But surely he’s lost friends before,” said Arthur. “There was that man back in Ealdor … what was his name?”

“You mean Will?” asked Gaius.

Arthur snapped his fingers and said, “Yes, Will. I got the impression they were childhood friends.”

“Well, yes,” responded Gaius, “they did grow up together. But Lancelot’s place in Merlin’s life went much deeper than friendship. There was a bond between the two of them; they were more like brothers than friends. Did you know that when Lancelot was not on duty and Merlin was done with his work, the two were always together? So much so, that when I saw one without the other, it always seemed strange to me.”

“Ohh,” whispered Arthur, a look of self-recrimination on his face. “I knew they were friends, but I didn’t realize how close they truly were. Well, that certainly explains Merlin’s demeanour. And I’ve been chivvying him endlessly these past few days to get over it. I feel so _stupid_!”

“Arthur, you weren’t aware. And if I know Merlin as well as I think I do, he isn’t angry or upset with you. Right now, the only thing we can do is give him some space, while at the same time letting him know that we understand what he is going through. This is Merlin we’re talking about … I’m sure he’ll be back to his usual self in no time.”

“I hope you’re right, Gaius,” responded Arthur as he mindlessly twirled the empty goblet between his agile fingers. After a few moments of silence, Arthur stood and said, “Well, I’ve got things to do and Merlin will be back soon. You won’t mention that I’ve spoken with you about all this,” said Arthur in a half-commanding, half-pleading tone.

Gaius smiled at the prince and said, “Our discussion is private, Arthur. No, I won’t mention anything to Merlin.”

With a parting smile for the elderly man, Arthur made his way to the door; but as soon as he had placed his hand on the latch he heard a quiet, “Thank you, Arthur.”   Arthur turned back towards Gaius with a quizzical look on his face and Gaius continued, “For caring so much about Merlin.”

With a shy smile and a reddening of his cheeks, Arthur nodded to the physician and left his chambers, quietly closing the door behind him. He had a great deal to think about, but right now he needed to find Leon and have a discussion about the next steps in training for the new squires.

* * * * *

The next morning, Arthur was already seated at his desk writing feverishly on a piece of parchment when Merlin arrived with his breakfast.

“Arthur,” exclaimed the servant, “you’re up! And dressed!” Placing the tray of foodstuffs on the table where it wouldn’t get in Arthur’s way, he added, “Is it some sort of holiday?”

“Ha, ha, very funny Merlin,” responded the prince as he pushed the quill and ink pot to the side and pulled the tray towards him. “I’ve got a list of tasks for you today and knowing you, I figured I’d better write them down or you’d forget to do half of them.”

By this time, Merlin was standing at the side of the bed with his back to Arthur. He had straightened the bedclothes and was now trying to smooth the wrinkles out of the coverlet, but he was still capable of shooting a look over his shoulder towards the blond as if to say _you are a laugh-riot, my lord!_

“Actually, Merlin, could you stop that and come here please?”

Surprised at both the tone and the polite turn of phrase, Merlin straightened up and stepped towards the table, coming to a halt in front of Arthur. Arthur, for his part, had been intently studying his servant, while trying not to let Merlin realize it. There was one task that he had been avoiding assigning for weeks, but it could wait no longer.

“Please, sit down, Merlin. You’re making me nervous with your hovering,” said Arthur as he gestured towards the low-backed, red-upholstered chair.

“ _I’m_ making _you_ nervous,” said Merlin with a bit of a squawk. “What about me? You’re being polite, Arthur, which generally means nothing good is about to happen. What’s wrong? What have I done?”

“Merlin, nothing’s wrong and you haven’t done anything, so relax! It’s just that … well … I know how hard these past weeks have been for you and I’m sorry that you had to go through that but …” Arthur’s voice trailed away and he began fiddling with the spoon that sat beside the bowl of oatmeal.

“Arthur, just tell me. _What is going on_?”

Arthur took a deep breath and began speaking. “Well, it’s been more than three weeks now and as much as I hate to say it, Lancelot’s rooms are going to have to be reassigned sooner rather than later.   Which means that someone is going to have pack up all of his personal belongings. I know it’s an awful thing to ask of you, but I was hoping that you would be willing to do it. After all, you were Lancelot’s closest friend and I’m sure he would be happy to know that you’re the one cleaning up his stuff and hopefully finding a use for some of it.”

At Arthur’s words, Merlin became very still and the colour drained from his face. Logically, he understood why Arthur was asking this of him, but emotionally the young man wasn’t sure he could face walking into Lancelot’s rooms and being surrounded by reminders of his friend. In fact, Merlin had taken to avoiding that part of the castle whenever possible because he couldn’t face the pain he felt when he walked down the corridor and past the familiar scarred wooden door.

Suddenly, he heard Arthur calling his name and from the anxiety in his voice, the blond had in fact called several times.

Blinking back tears, Merlin looked up at Arthur who was now standing at his side, grasping his forearm in a strong grip.

“There you are,” breathed Arthur. “I was starting to worry. I’m sorry, Merlin; I should have thought. Don’t worry about it; I’ll find someone else to clear out Lancelot’s belongings. I shouldn’t have asked you.”

Merlin shook his head and said, “No, Arthur. I’ll do it. I _want_ to do it. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Arthur looked down at his servant with a wary eye, but at the pleading look on the other man’s face, he couldn’t find it in himself to refuse Merlin despite knowing how much heartache the act of clearing out Lancelot’s belongings would bring.

“All right, Merlin, and thank you. I trust you will know what do with Lancelot’s personal items?”

“I’ll take care of it all,” responded Merlin as he stood up from the chair. “Thank you for letting me do this; I don’t think I could handle someone else sorting through Lancelot’s stuff. If you don’t need me for the next little while, I think I’ll get started.”

Arthur gave his servant an encouraging nod and watched the other man closely as he retrieved the tray from the desk and then headed out the door, closing it carefully behind him.

_I hope I haven’t made a mistake by asking Merlin to do this_ thought Arthur as he pulled on his boots and got ready to start his day.

After having returned Arthur’s breakfast tray to the kitchens, Merlin proceeded along the softly-lit halls towards Lancelot’s rooms. It was a trip he had made so many times in the past that his feet seemed to take him there without thought. As he slowly traversed the corridors, he couldn’t help but bring to mind other times when he had walked at Lancelot’s side, both men laughing about something – be it Gwaine’s latest prank, or something amusing that had occurred on the training grounds, or just a silly story one of them told of something that had happened in their younger days.

It didn’t take long before Merlin found himself at the intersection of two corridors; a turn to the left and he would soon find himself at Lancelot’s rooms. While tempted to continue straight, Merlin knew that the longer he put off this task, the more difficult it would become.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin turned the corner and stared down the short hallway towards the dark wooden door near the end. Lancelot’s rooms. Nearing the door, Merlin noticed with surprise that the door was ajar. Was someone taking advantage of the situation and rifling through Lancelot’s belongings? A heat rose in Merlin, a combination of anger and disappointment. Surely Lancelot’s sacrifice was worth more than thievery!

Merlin stalked down the hall and threw the door open with more force than elegance; he was hoping to catch the thief in action. A small shriek met his forceful entry into the room.

“Gwen?” gasped Merlin in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Merlin! You frightened me,” said the dark-haired girl as she lowered her hand from where it had flown to her chest at the sound of the door bouncing off the wall.

“I’m sorry, Gwen; I didn’t mean to scare you. Arthur asked if I’d clear out Lancelot’s belongings, and I saw the door was open as I came down the hallway. I thought someone was … never mind. Arthur didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

“That’s because Arthur doesn’t know I’m here. I wanted … I needed …oh Merlin,” whispered Gwen as tears began to fill her dark brown eyes. “I don’t know what I want other than for Lancelot to walk through that door with a smile on his face.”

The two friends stood there for a few seconds, each lost in their thoughts, when Gwen cleared her throat, sniffed and said, “Merlin, I’d like to stay and help you, if you don’t mind.”

Looking over to his friend, Merlin gave her a small quirk of his lips – it really couldn’t be considered a smile – and much as he would have preferred doing this alone, he couldn’t refuse Gwen her request. Instead, he simply said, “Of course I don’t mind.”

“I’ll start over here, with the wardrobe, if that’s all right with you,” said Gwen as she moved across the room to the bed and the tall armoire that was positioned nearby.

Merlin nodded his assent and crossed to the other side of the room where a small set of shelves lined the wall beside a table that sat under the room’s single window. Everything was covered with a thin film of dust, a testament to the owner’s absence. Merlin sat down in the chair placed at the table, pulled the various pieces of parchment closer and starting reading their contents. The majority of them were nothing more than notes or instructions that could safely be destroyed. The impersonal nature of the writings meant that Merlin could skim through them quite quickly, without feeling.

Once the desktop was in order, Merlin shifted himself to stand in front of the shelves. Here was another matter altogether. These shelves held the bulk of Lancelot’s personal possessions and brought home to Merlin once again the feelings of sadness and guilt that he was trying so hard to work past. On one shelf was a small dagger that Merlin knew had been gifted to Lancelot by his mother many years before. Sitting beside it was beautifully-rendered carving of a hawk that he had picked up in France, not long after the events with the griffin. Merlin had a similar carving, though his was of an owl, a gift from his friend.

A few pieces of ribbon were curled up around each other – tokens from ladies, no doubt - and there was a snipping of blond hair tied with a blue thread sitting there as well. Finally, there was a wooden bowl, small enough to fit in his palm, with intricate designs worked around its rim. It was old and had been handled so often that the wood was burnished smooth by countless hands.

Merlin was just reaching out to pick up the bowl when he heard muffled sobs coming from the other side of the room. While Merlin had been shuffling papers on the desk, Gwen had been quietly folding the various pieces of clothing hanging in the wardrobe and placing them in two piles.

On hearing Gwen’s crying, Merlin quickly made his way across the room to her side and pulled her into a tight embrace. That small act was all it took, and soon she was sobbing in Merlin’s arms while clutching an old, threadbare shirt to her face.

Merlin gently rocked from side to side, running his hand down Gwen’s long hair and murmuring. “Hush, Gwen,” he soothed, “you’ll make yourself sick. Everything is all right. Just keep breathing. Shhhh, you’re okay.”

After what seemed like hours, but was really only a few minutes, Gwen sniffed and pulled away from Merlin. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were swollen. “I’m sorry, Merlin,” she said as she scrubbed at her eyes. “But it I can’t take it! It’s all my fault that Lancelot’s dead.”

“What? Gwen, no … it’s no one’s fault,” said Merlin as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

“If I hadn’t made him promise to watch over Arthur, he would still be here. I sent him to his death!” she wailed, as tears began flowing down her cheeks again.

“Gwen, stop this! It’s not your fault; you did nothing wrong. If there is blame to be laid, lay it at the feet of the Cailleach. She is the one who demanded a sacrifice.”

“Yes, but …”

“But nothing,” interrupted Merlin. “Lancelot made his decision of his own free will. He wasn’t forced or coerced into it. Listen, Gaius said something to me a while ago. He pointed out that maybe it was Lancelot’s destiny to give up his life for Arthur and for Camelot … for all of us. We may never know for sure, but what I do know is that Lancelot did not look afraid as he walked into the darkness. He seemed almost ... calm. So, please, you must stop blaming yourself for what happened and take Lancelot’s actions for what they were: a gift.”

While Merlin had been speaking, Gwen’s breathing had evened out and she even seemed to stand straighter. “Merlin, when did you become so wise?” she asked with a shaky grin.

“Ah, you know me,” Merlin responded with an attempt at light-heartedness, “I’ve always been wise, just no one ever realized.”

Gwen laughed and then rising up on her toes, she leaned in to give Merlin a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Here, give me that,” he said as he pulled the now-wrinkled and slightly damp shirt from Gwen’s hands. “I’ll finish up here; it won’t take long. You go and get some rest.”

“Are you sure?” asked Gwen.

Waving his hands towards the door, Merlin said, “Of course I’m sure. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Gwen smiled at her friend and made her way out the door, closing it gently behind her. Staring blankly down at the fabric in his hands, Merlin barely registered the _click_ of the latch as the door closed. After a few moments, he rolled his shoulders, put the shirt down on the bed and walked across the room.

Standing once again in front of the shelves, Merlin picked up the small wooden bowl with shaking hands. He remembered Lancelot telling him that it had been a gift from a holy man, a thank you for having rescued him from some bandits on the road.

Merlin stood with the bowl in his hand, his fingers tracing the carvings around the rim when suddenly everything got to be too much. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, he could hardly see for the tears in his eyes and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. He needed to get out of there, immediately.

Heedless of what he was doing, Merlin clutched the bowl close to his chest and quickly exited the room, barely remembering to close the door behind him. He sped along the halls towards the Grand Staircase and the outdoors. By the time he reached the marble steps, the young warlock was practically running. He raced across the paving stones and out the main gate of the castle.

He had no destination in mind but ‘away’, so he simply ran and soon veered off the track and into the woods. He leapt over fallen trees and forced his way through the underbrush until he fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Looking around, Merlin couldn’t remember how he got there. _I must have looked a right idiot_ he thought as he pushed his bangs out of his eyes and pulled out a couple of twigs that had gotten stuck in his hair.

Shifting from his knees, Merlin sat there gathering his breath and his thoughts. It was quiet and calm, and Merlin felt the stillness enter his soul. Sitting there, listening to the birdsong and the breeze rustling through the leaves, Merlin finally felt at peace. The first peace he had felt since that fateful day weeks earlier.

The young man moved to lean back against a fallen tree. He stretched his legs out in front of him and wriggled his shoulders until he was comfortably seated. It was only then that he realized that he was still holding Lancelot’s bowl.

Merlin sat there for many minutes, absorbing the calm of the woods, when a rumbling sounded from overhead. Looking up, he was surprised to see that the once-sunny day had become overcast and it looked like a storm was brewing. Not knowing where he was exactly, Merlin moaned aloud, “Guess I’ll be getting wet.”

The thunder got louder and then there was a flash of lightening. Quickly standing up, Merlin scanned the area, looking for some sort of shelter. The rain was starting; large drops were bouncing off the leaves and while he was still dry, he wouldn’t be for long. Another flash of lightening showed Merlin a small opening in some rocks about 200 paces way.

Hoping it would be uninhabited, he quickly ran towards the cave, making it to cover just before the heavens opened. While it couldn’t really be called a cave – it was too small for that grand title – the opening had enough of an overhang to protect him from the weather. A cursory glance around showed that it was uninhabited and had been for quite a while.

While the cave was small, it was clear and dry, so Merlin settled himself down to wait out the weather. It was raining so hard that the entryway soon was covered by a curtain of falling water.

Watching the rain fall, Merlin could not help but think that it was almost as if the sky was crying. He didn’t notice his own tears slipping down his face to drip onto the dusty ground beneath him.


	4. Chapter 4

The rain continued to fall from the sky, but as Merlin’s tears ceased he realized that he was extremely thirsty. Taking the small bowl in hand, he stood and took the two steps necessary to cover the distance between where he had been sitting and the entrance to his small shelter. Merlin thrust the bowl under the cascading water, and it was soon filled to the brim with clear, cool rainwater. Draining the bowl in three large gulps, he filled it again and returned to his seat on the ground. This time, though, he scooted back a bit to lean against the rock wall.

Drinking a bit more, Merlin placed the now half-empty bowl in the dust at his side and sighed deeply. He was exhausted, but for the first time in weeks he did not feel like the weight of his guilt and sorrow was crushing him. He felt light; almost as if he could float away on a summer breeze.

The feeling of lightness was incredible and as he sat there watching the rain, Merlin finally came to accept that everything he had told Gwen earlier that day was true. Lancelot’s death wasn’t her fault, nor was it _his_ fault. For his own reasons, Lancelot had made his choice. _He_ had made the choice to step through the void. _He_ had made the choice to pay the Cailleach’s price so Merlin would be able to fulfil his own destiny.

Despite the fact that he would have done anything to prevent Lancelot’s sacrifice, Merlin at last understood that while he could wish the past undone, it would do him no good to dwell on what had happened. He could rage at the Fates and scream aloud at his Destiny, but all that would get him was a sore throat. It was time to pick himself up and move ahead; it was time to honour Lancelot’s actions and stop agonizing over the past.

Merlin glanced down at the bowl that sat at his side and decided that it would be the one thing of Lancelot’s he would keep. He knew Arthur would not begrudge him wanting to keep a small remembrance of his friend. Then finally, _finally_ , after many long weeks, a true smile appeared on Merlin’s face. This wasn’t the small quirk of his lips that constituted his smiles recently. No, this one made his nose wrinkle and his eyes glow.

Looking down at the half-filled bowl, Merlin began to wonder. His studies of magic had recently included scrying and under Gaius’ tutelage, he had become quite adept at calling up images in still water.

_I wonder_ , he thought, _if it would work the same with people who have di … who aren’t …_ Calling into his mind’s eye an image of Lancelot, Merlin picked up the bowl, cradled it in his hands and whispered the incantation. His eyes glowed golden for a moment and an image began to form in the water. It was very faint at first, but soon grew clear and crisp and then Lancelot was looking up at him with his familiar smile on his face.

It wasn’t the same as having Lancelot here, beside him, but Merlin was willing to take what he could get. Seeing his friend brought back his feelings of sorrow, but rather than fall into despair, Merlin shook his head and instead gave the image a tremulous smile.

“I know I’m probably being really silly, talking to an image,” he said aloud, “but I just wanted to say _thank you_ , Lancelot, for what you did. I know you can’t hear me, or see me, but … Anyway, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to keep this bowl; I promise that every time I look at it, I’ll think of you. I miss you, Lancelot. I hope that, wherever you’ve ended up, you are not suffering or in pain. I vow I will never forget your kindness, your friendship or your sacrifice. The worst is I don’t even know if you are dead or alive. I almost hope you are dead, because I can’t bear the thought of you being trapped on the other side of the void, alive and with no way to return. Is that such a terrible thing, to wish you dead?”

Merlin’s voice trailed off as he raised his eyes from their contemplation of the image in the water towards the entrance to his small shelter. While he had been sitting in the dimly-lit shelter, the rain had lessened; in fact the storm had almost blown itself out. There was only a bit of drizzle now, and the dark clouds were clearing to reveal patches of bright blue sky.

“It’s stopped raining,” murmured Merlin as he turned his gaze back to the bowl. But the spell had been broken and now the bowl held nothing more than a few inches of rainwater.

“Ah well,” sighed Merlin, “I suppose it was too good to last.” Standing up, he brushed the dust from his bum and tipped the last of the water onto the ground. Looking around his little hide-away, Merlin had a feeling that this would not be the last time he came here. The quiet of the woods had worked its magic on him and while he knew that he had to get back to Camelot and his duties, Merlin felt drawn to this place and the peace that he had found here.

Making a quick tour of the small cave, he found a tiny outcropping of rock at the back of the shelter; it almost looked like a shelf and it was just deep enough to hold his precious bowl. Placing the bowl on the ledge, he ran his forefinger gently around its rim. “Good bye for now, Lancelot,” he whispered. “I’ll be back soon.”

Exiting the cave, Merlin looked back and laid a simple “keep away” spell over the entrance. He didn’t want to have to hide the cave, partly because he wasn’t exactly sure where he was and he wanted to be sure that he could find his way back; rather, he simply wanted it to seem uninviting to any foxes or badgers or other animals that might be on the search for a new home.

Once the spell was laid, the young man rolled his shoulders and took a good look around. It had felt like he had run for hours, but he knew that he was probably no more than a half-hour walk from the castle. He just had to figure out in which direction lay home.

Merlin easily clambered up the small outcropping of stone that housed his little hide-away and when he reached the top, to his amazement he could see the turrets of the castle quite close by.

“Ha!” he exclaimed. “I must have run in a circle. I’ll be home in no time.” Merlin quickly made his way along the narrow worn path and not fifteen minutes later found himself once again passing through the main gates, only this time he was in a much better frame of mind.

Merlin made his way across the courtyard and up the Griffin staircase before one of the palace guards called out to him.

“Merlin! There you are! Prince Arthur has been looking for you. I believe he’s in the Great Hall right now.”

“Right. Thanks,” called Merlin as he picked up his feet and sped along the hallways to find Arthur. Skidding to a halt at the doors to the Great Hall, Merlin pulled on the hem of his tunic and surreptitiously brushed his hands down his backside; it wouldn’t do to show up covered in dirt and twigs. “How late am I?” he asked the guards worriedly.

One of the guards, still smiling at the servant’s attempts to make himself presentable, said, “I wouldn’t worry, Merlin. Arthur only called for you about five minutes ago, and he seemed to be in a good mood, so I think you’re safe … this time!”

“Thank goodness,” said the servant fervently. With a nod to the guards, he pushed open the doors and stepped in to the room to find Arthur seated at the head of the table and Gwen standing at his side.

The two were conversing in a low tone, but on hearing the sound of Merlin’s boots on the flagstaff floor, they broke apart. Gwen sent a smile towards Merlin, curtseyed to Arthur and slipped out of the room through the side entrance.

“Ah, Merlin,” said Arthur. “Come here and sit down.”

“Really? You want me to sit?” asked Merlin in surprise.

“Well, you can stand if you want, but if it were my choice, I’d take advantage of the kind offer and plant myself,” said Arthur with a grin.

Merlin shrugged slightly, pulled one of the heavy chairs out from the table and sat down on the edge of the seat. He wasn’t sure what Arthur was up to and that made him a little nervous.

“So,” said Arthur, “Gwen mentioned that you were cleaning out Lancelot’s rooms. How did that go?”

Merlin nodded and said, “Yes; right after I returned your breakfast tray to the kitchens I went to Lancelot’s rooms to begin clearing out and organizing his stuff. Gwen was there already, so the two of us got right to work. I’m not quite finished yet, but I should be done by tomorrow. Is that alright?”

“That’s fine, Merlin. Like I said this morning, there’s no rush to finish. When you’ve got everything in order let me know and I’ll arrange to have Lancelot’s belongings distributed amongst the poor. As long as you agree, Merlin.”

“I think Lancelot would like that,” answered the dark-haired servant in a low voice.

The two men sat in their chairs, quiet, until Merlin cleared his throat and said, “Arthur? Ummm …”

“What is it Merlin?”

“Well … um … Lancelot didn’t have very many personal items. But there was this one thing … it was important to him … and I was wondering … well, I was hoping …”

“Merlin,” said Arthur with the slightest hint of impatience, “just say what you want to say.”

Taking a deep breath, Merlin said in a quavering voice, “Lancelot had a bowl that had been given to him by a holy man. It’s quite old and has some beautiful carvings around the rim. I’d like to keep it, in memory of Lancelot, if that’s okay?”

“Oh, Merlin, of course. Lancelot was your friend, and it’s only right that you have something tangible to remember him by. But a bowl doesn’t seem like much. Are you sure there’s nothing else you’d like to keep?”

“No Arthur, the bowl is perfect. There’s something else, though, that I think Lancelot would like you to have. He has a carving of a hawk that he got in France and I know he’d be happy knowing that it was safe in your care. Assuming you want it, of course.”

Arthur stared at his servant, a look of surprise on his face. Merlin was the most inept servant he’d ever known, but every once in a while the lad did something that touched Arthur deeply.

“I’d be honoured to have it, to have something to remind me of Lancelot. Thank you, Merlin, for thinking of me.”

Merlin gave Arthur a shy smile and said, “I’ll finish up with Lancelot’s chambers tomorrow and I’ll be sure to bring you the carving.” Standing up from his seat, he added, “Is there anything else you need me for, Arthur? Otherwise, I’ve got some duties to attend before dinner.”

Arthur waved his servant away, but as Merlin neared the main doors to the room, he called out to his servant.

“Merlin, wait a moment.” Arthur made his way to Merlin’s side and grasped the younger man’s forearm. “I just wanted to say _thank you_.”

“For what? The carving?” asked a confused Merlin.

“No, well, yes. But also for helping Gwen earlier. She told me what happened while the two of you were working in Lancelot’s rooms. I know she’s been beating herself up over Lancelot’s death and whatever you told her seems to have taken root. She is much happier now than she has been since his passing. So … thank you,” said Arthur again as he squeezed Merlin’s arm and then let him go.

Of course, the prince couldn’t appear soft so he followed up with a brisk “Now get back to work, Merlin. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Merlin simply snorted lightly, bowed rather sarcastically and exited the room.

********

And so the weeks passed and life in Camelot carried on as usual. There were new intrigues to be dealt with, new knights to be put through their paces before being elevated to the title of Knight of Camelot, kings and princes coming to discuss treaties and trade agreements, and it seemed that no one spent much time thinking about Lancelot.

No one but Merlin, that is.

The young man was still struggling with his feelings of guilt and anguish. Most days he was able to go about his duties in his normal manner, but then someone would say something, or something would happen and Lancelot would once again become the focus of his thoughts. On those days, Merlin made a point of escaping to his small hide-away in the woods. Once there, he could cry or yell or simply sit and remember without worrying about anyone seeing him and asking in that particular tone of voice, “How _are_ you?”

It quickly became a habit for Merlin to call water into the small bowl, conjure up an image of Lancelot and then talk to his friend. It was this one small act - talking to Lancelot - that Merlin found he missed most. Other than Gaius, Lancelot was the only person in Camelot who knew that Merlin had magic. Whenever he was with Lancelot, the young warlock had never felt the need to hide his talents, or censor his words … he could just be himself.

Gaius was truly wonderful and was always willing to listen to whatever Merlin had to say, but he took his duties as mentor very seriously and he never hesitated to tell Merlin when he thought the younger man had crossed the line regarding the use of his magic.

Merlin often felt that Gaius was judging every little action he took; not necessarily in a bad way, but more as a teaching opportunity. Yet sometimes the young man just wanted someone who would simply _listen_ while he talked; someone who wouldn’t judge or comment. He needed a _friend_.

And so, Merlin continued to speak to Lancelot as though the man were still alive. It might not have been the best way to deal with things, but it felt like the only option available to him. Merlin _couldn’t_ tell anyone else about his magic, so he struggled through as best he could while still confiding in his absent friend.

To everyone else, it seemed that their young companion had finally laid his demons to rest and was carrying on normally. Even Gwen, who was usually so quick to notice when something was amiss with Merlin, presumed that he was doing fine.

The only ones who remained concerned about Merlin’s welfare were Arthur and Gwaine.

Arthur could see that Merlin was building up a wall between himself and everyone around him. Oh, he was still the kind, gentle, clumsy person he had always been, but there was a sense of solitude about him. Merlin was still quick with a retort and he still joked with Arthur, but there was a dampening of his enthusiasm.

Arthur tried everything he could think of to get through to his friend, but nothing seemed to work. He bullied, he cajoled, he joked and he teased; one day he even cornered the servant and asked how he was doing, but the result was always the same.

“I’m fine, Arthur,” became the three words that the prince hated the most. He _knew_ Merlin needed help, but he didn’t know what to do.

Gwaine, for his part, was also keeping a close eye on his young friend. Theirs was a friendship built on fun and light-heartedness. They had never really gone in for deep and meaningful conversations, but that didn’t mean that Gwaine was not genuinely concerned. He could see that Merlin was closing himself off and was determined not to let that happen.

********

It was purely by chance that one afternoon Gwaine discovered Merlin’s secret.

It had not been a good day for Merlin. It seemed that everywhere he turned there were reminders of Lancelot. With his thoughts scattered, he became inattentive and more clumsy than usual. After he had broken several vials of medicines, tripped going up the stairs and had managed to drop a pile of parchment into the only puddle in the courtyard, he’d had enough. Once he’d cleaned up his latest mess, he raced back to his rooms to grab his satchel. He needed to get away and the bag would offer a plausible excuse. After all, Gaius was always looking to replenish his supply of medicinal herbs.

As he determinedly made his way across the courtyard and out the main gates, Merlin didn’t realize that he was being carefully watched. Gwaine had seen Merlin picking up the dripping parchment and had been making his way towards the despondent young man when he suddenly scurried up the stairs and into the castle. Figuring that everything was fine, Gwaine turned to continue on his way to the Royal Stables when he heard the loud _thump, thump, thump_ of heels hitting cobblestones.

Turning to find the source out the noise, Gwaine saw that it was Merlin rushing across the courtyard, seemingly indifferent to everyone around him. Gwaine called to his friend, but Merlin was so lost in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear. The dark-haired knight halted in his tracks and watched as Merlin made his way along the entryway and through the main gates. Then, to his surprise, he saw the other man break into a run and quickly disappear down the road.

_That was odd_ , thought Gwaine as he continued on his way to the stables. _He had his bag with him, but I can’t imagine that Gaius is in such short supply of herbs that Merlin felt he had to run to get whatever Gaius needs._ Stopping short in front of the large double doors of the stable, Gwaine ran his fingers through his hair. Something was definitely wrong. He was _sure_ of it and he was not going to let things continue on in this manner. No, he was going to find Merlin and get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

Gwaine rapidly made his way out the castle gates and headed along the road, his eyes scanning the brush and grass to either side of the track. Considering the speed at which Merlin had been traveling, there should be some evidence of his passing. Sure enough, Gwaine quickly came across a narrow track that showed signs of recent use. There were boot tracks in the dirt and a couple of branches from the nearby bushes had been brushed to the side or snapped off completely.

Glancing around to make sure he wasn’t being watched, as he had a feeling that Merlin had been looking for some privacy, Gwaine stepped off the road and traversed the narrow track. He had only been walking for about five or six minutes when he could see that the underbrush was thinning and the trees were set further apart. He soon came upon a small clearing. As he stood at the edge of the treeline trying to determine which way Merlin had gone, Gwaine heard a low sound over the hum of the crickets. It only took a few seconds for him to recognize Merlin’s voice. He was obviously talking to someone, but where was he? The clearing was empty.

As his eyes darted around, and with head cocked slightly to the left in order to hear better, Gwaine suddenly had a terrible thought. Well, actually, not a terrible thought, but more an embarrassing one. What if Merlin was meeting up with someone? What if Merlin was meeting a girl and here he was, ready to step in where he wasn’t wanted? Grinning to himself, Gwaine thought “ _Way to go, Merls!”_

He was turning away, intent on leaving his friend to his tryst when Merlin’s voice rose in volume and Gwaine heard him call “Why Lancelot? It’s not fair!”

At the pain in his young friend’s voice, Gwaine realized that he couldn’t just walk away. He seemed to have hit upon what was bothering Merlin: He was obviously still mourning his friend. If nothing else, Merlin’s cry had allowed Gwaine to pinpoint the servant’s location. Just off to his right there was a rock face and from the way the sun was hitting it, there seemed to be a small opening.

Gwaine was just about to step into the clearing when he saw Merlin step out of the darkness and seat himself in the entrance of his shelter. The younger man was bent over something in his hands and he was speaking again, but quieter now so that Gwaine could not hear what Merlin was saying.

The knight would never be able to explain why, but for some reason he held back from announcing himself; maybe he didn’t want to startle his friend, or maybe he didn’t want to risk Merlin being angry at discovering he had been followed. Whatever the impulse, it changed Gwaine’s life forever.

As he stood, hidden by some low-lying branches and a large gorse bush, he could see Merlin raise his head and place the bowl he had been grasping on the ground beside him. Then, to Gwaine’s utter shock and horror, Merlin began drawing pictures in the sand in front of him.

Only, he wasn’t using a stick or his fingers. No; Merlin waved his hands and without touching anything, the sand began to writhe and shift before him. And then, without warning, the sand rose to hover in the air and as it continued to move, it began to form an image. He recognized that face; it was Lancelot! A sand picture of Lancelot and Merlin was speaking to it!

Gwaine felt his blood turn to ice and shivers run up and down his spine. His kind and gentle friend was much more than he seemed. Merlin had _magic_!

Not too proud to admit he was afraid, Gwaine quietly eased away from the clearing. He didn’t want to make any noise; he didn’t want to attract Merlin’s attention. He had to get back to Camelot. He had to tell someone. He needed to find Arthur!

As he hurried along the dark, narrow path, one thought kept spinning and spinning through Gwaine’s mind: _Merlin is a sorcerer!_


	5. Chapter 5

It should have been a relatively short walk back to the castle, but it took Gwaine far longer than expected. As he tried to come to grips with what he had just seen, as he tried to comprehend that _Merlin_ was a _sorcerer_ , his feet slowed so that he was barely moving forward. With head bowed and feet dragging, Gwaine looked more like a recalcitrant child plodding home because he knew he faced trouble on his arrival than one of Camelot’s finest knights. The man’s mind was spinning with one thought:

Merlin has magic.

_Merlin_ has _magic_.

Oh, Gods. Merlin has magic; like that _bitch_ Morgana!

“How am I going to tell Arthur?” he moaned aloud. Whether or not he agreed with Camelot’s rules regarding sorcery, the law was the law. Gwaine was duty-bound to tell Arthur that his servant was a sorcerer. And what about Gaius? Surely he, too, had a right to know that his ward was a user of magic? Gwaine scrubbed his fingers across his scalp and through his hair; the afternoon’s events had left him with a massive headache.

By the time he arrived at the main gates to the castle, the dark-haired man was more confused than ever but no longer fearful of his … could Merlin still be called “friend”, after what Gwaine had seen today?

While his first instinct had been to tell Arthur what he had witnessed, his walk back to Camelot had made Gwaine begin to question whether that was the proper step to take. After all, this was _Merlin_. Kind, gentle, tender-hearted Merlin.

Gwaine was not scheduled for guard duty until the next morning, so on his return to the castle he went directly to his chambers and firmly shut the door behind him.

He poured a mug of mead from his hidden stash and sat himself at his small table. His next steps would take some serious consideration. Not only was Merlin’s future in Camelot at stake, any decision that he took would have far-reaching consequences. With a shock, he realized that he literally held Merlin’s life in his hands. There was risk here, and Gwaine needed to find the best way through the morass.

Sitting at the table, his index finger idly drawing swirls and loops in the moisture rings his mug had left on the table top, Gwaine began to focus his thoughts.

“Merlin has magic,” he whispered aloud with awe in his slightly shaky voice. “Stop it!” he admonished himself in a firm voice. “All right, so Merlin has magic. Focus, Gwaine, you’ve got some serious decisions to make.”

Slowing drinking his mead, Gwaine cast his thoughts back to the first time he had met Merlin. Merlin and Arthur had made their presence known in the small tavern in whatever village that had been – he had never learned the name of the place. Then, when a brawl had broken out all because Arthur couldn’t help but stand up to a bully, what a fantastic fight that had been!

Thinking back on it now, Gwaine realized that Merlin came out of that debacle unhurt … a surprising feat for a mere servant who bore no arms and didn’t look strong enough to hurt a fly.

As he sat and thought about the numerous hunting trips he’d been on, the lengthy patrols, the visits to the outer villages, Gwaine came to recognize that each and every time things appeared bleak, their luck would turn and they would emerge victorious and relatively unscathed.

That _had_ to have been due to Merlin’s intervention. It was not possible that Arthur, or anyone for that matter, could be lucky enough to face so many attacks and ambushes and still come out on top.

Gwaine sat at his small table, mulling over events of the past few years and soon came to understand that the one consistent factor to every fight they won, every ambush they survived, every failed attempt by Morgana to wreak havoc, was _Merlin_. Though Gwaine had no absolute proof, it was obvious that Merlin was using his magic to keep Arthur, to keep all of them, safe.

He recalled the time he and Merlin had followed Arthur through the Perilous Lands to the Fisher King’s Tower. The wyverns they encountered had been terrifying, but in the end were defeated relatively easily. Could that have been due to Merlin’s magic?

Then, not long after that, he ran into Arthur and Merlin again – though that time all three were captives of the slave trader Jarl. _Hmm_ , he mused, _the fire that allowed us to escape came at a pretty convenient time_. And of course there was the mess when Morgana seized the throne, took over Camelot and imprisoned Uther. There was so much action occurring when they tried to re-take the citadel, that the sudden end to the fight was surprising. Without doubt Merlin had summoned up his magic to aid them once again.

The more he reflected, the more Gwaine saw the indications that Merlin had been consistently, yet surreptitiously, performing magic for years. He certainly went about it in small and subtle ways, but always to their benefit. Gwaine began to hope that everything he thought about his friend – his kindness, his gentleness, his willingness to help – wasn’t a lie and that Merlin truly was one of the good ones. It certainly bore more thought.

The knight was pulled from his lengthy musings by the clanging of the dinner bell. Blinking his eyes against the dim light, he saw that he’d been lost in his thoughts for several hours. Thinking was hard and hungry work, but he’d finally come to a decision. He knew what to do about Merlin. Nothing. At least for now.

“But don’t think I won’t be keeping a keen eye on you, my lad,” said Gwaine as he stood up and made his way out his room and towards the dining hall. While Merlin had not yet done anything to endanger or harm Arthur, that didn’t mean that the warlock still couldn’t turn against them. So, while the knight was willing, for now, to keep his peace, the moment he saw something the slightest bit off with Merlin he would not hesitate to go to Arthur and tell him what he had learned. That was not a conversation Gwaine ever wanted to have, but he was no coward and if exposing Merlin for what he truly was became necessary, then Gwaine would not hesitate to do so.

********

The next few weeks saw Gwaine keeping a close watch over Merlin and though the young servant was very careful, he was able to catch Merlin using his magical talents to prevent disaster on several instances.

On two separate occasions, they were being overrun by bandits and were fighting for their lives. The first time, a huge mountain of a man tripped over his own two feet and rather than run Arthur through with his spear, it ended up falling harmlessly to the ground. The second time a vine, that Gwaine would swear on his mother’s head had not been there just seconds earlier, entangled a small man who was rushing towards Arthur’s back with his axe raised high. Without warning, the attacker’s feet were twisted up in the length of living rope and instead of cleaving Arthur’s head in two, the axe instead ended up stuck in the attacker’s own upper thigh.

If Gwaine hadn’t been watching Merlin, he never would have noticed the warlock’s small hand movements or seen his normally clear blue eyes glow golden momentarily. Not realizing that his actions had been observed, Merlin simply gave Gwaine a tiny smile when their eyes met across the skirmish.

And so it continued. The more Gwaine watched Merlin and studied the reasons behind his actions, the more the dark-haired knight came to realize that even though Merlin was a creature of magic, he was still the same old Merlin. It soon became obvious that Merlin would never use his talents to harm Arthur; rather, he often seemed particularly persistent in his attempts to remain at Arthur’s side, no matter the potential danger to himself.

Gwaine finally began to breathe easier and relax his vigilance. He was certain now that Merlin was on their side and would take whatever steps necessary to ensure that Arthur would carry on and fulfil his destiny to become King of Camelot.

Yet, though Gwaine was feeling better about everything, it was obvious that Merlin was still missing Lancelot. At those few times when Merlin couldn’t be found, or he was supposedly off collecting herbs and plants for Gaius, Gwaine took it upon himself to seek out the small hide-away that Merlin had made his own and check to see what the young man was doing there.

Each time Gwaine tracked Merlin to his small shelter in the rock face, he found the servant staring into the bowl, or calling forth images of Lancelot, and talking aloud to their lost companion. It made Gwaine wonder if Lancelot had known of Merlin’s secret. It would make sense if Lancelot was aware that the young servant was a sorcerer, not only because of the two’s close bond but also because of the tone of the discussions Merlin had with the empty air.

Then, one day, Gwaine was struck with a sobering thought. Obviously Merlin could not talk to anyone in Camelot about his magic, but what if Lancelot was the _one_ person who had known Merlin’s secret? What if Lancelot was Merlin’s sounding board, so to speak? The loss of the other knight would mean that not only was Merlin was deprived of his dearest friend, he was now without any support or understanding voice. That would certainly explain why Merlin was so closed off these days, and why he seemed to be retreating from everyone.

_Well_ , thought Gwaine, _this is going to stop right now. I’ll have to find a way to let Merlin know that I’m here for him._

_* * * * *_

A few weeks later, Arthur and his knights - and Merlin of course - were out on a hunting trip. Things had been quiet at the castle, so Arthur took advantage of the calm to leave behind the demands of his duties and escape into the woods with his friends for some manly shooting of furry creatures.

The weather on the first day had been perfect: sunny, slightly cool, with little to no breeze and nary a cloud in the sky. They had slept out under the stars, not even bothering to pitch their tents as the night sky had been clear and bright with starlight. The next day, though, the heavens opened and it poured all morning. By late afternoon, the downpour had turned into an annoying, persistent drizzle and all of them were frazzled and short-tempered. Still, it was good to be out of the castle, so everyone agreed to continue with the hunt.

The morning of the third day dawned and while it had stopped raining, the sky was overcast and threatening. But it never actually rained, so the small group decided to stick it out one more night and if the bad weather persisted, they’d return to Camelot the next morning.

Merlin, for his part, had been willing to return home by mid-morning of day two. He was tired, he was wet, he was sore and he was run off his feet ensuring that Arthur, Leon, Gwaine, Percival and Elyan were fed, their horses cared for, the camp set up and everything put in order before he found his bed at night.

Still, he had to admit that it was nice to get out of Camelot. Though the days of feeling like the walls were closing in on him were past, he still didn’t feel completely at ease traversing the halls knowing that Lancelot would not put in an appearance at some point.

Late afternoon of the third day of their trip found the group halting at a small clearing that, miracle of miracles, was actually sheltered and relatively dry.

Merlin quickly dismounted, tethered his horse to a nearby gorse bush and was trying to unbuckle his bedroll and remove his saddlebags when he heard Arthur say, “All right. This looks perfect. Merlin, you can set up camp right here, gather some wood for the fire and get started on dinner while the rest of us forage to see what we can catch to add to the pot. Don’t forget to pitch the tents and, when the fire is going, spread out our blankets and such so they can dry before we turn in.”

Merlin glanced over to Arthur with an incredulous look on his face, sighed deeply and muttered, “Yes Arthur.” It would take him _hours_ to get everything set up.

Gwaine, for his part, had been trying to find the perfect time to speak with Merlin, without much success. It seemed that Merlin was always darting making sure everything was in order and on the rare occasion when the young man was seated quietly beside the fire, Arthur would plunk his behind down and start talking at Merlin.

This, however, was ideal. With everyone else gone, Gwaine was sure he could get Merlin to sit down for a few moments to talk, so he called over to Arthur, “I’ll stay here with Merlin and give him a hand. Someone should stay with him, for safety’s sake.”

“Good point, Gwaine. All right men, let’s get to it. The sooner we catch some dinner, the sooner we can eat!” With much laughter and joking, Arthur and the three knights made their way through the underbrush in search of dinner, leaving Merlin and Gwaine behind.

Reaching over to take the reins of Gwaine’s horse, Merlin said, “Here, let me get her settled.”

“It’s fine, Merlin. I can do it; after all, it seems like you’ve got enough to do right now.”

With a rueful chuckle, Merlin said, “You better believe it.”

While Gwaine started grooming Merlin’s horse, the younger man scurried around setting up the site. He unsaddled and hobbled the other five horses, leaving them with a promise to feed and brush them later. He gathered up firewood, filled the water skins and then proceeded to lay out all the blankets and tunics that were still damp from the previous day’s rain. He had bits of clothing hanging off various convenient branches and twigs and the blankets were laid across a fallen log that he had manhandled into position near the fire.

Merlin had done all this without saying a word. He seemed lost in his thoughts and while Gwaine was anxious to speak with Merlin, he didn’t want to disturb his friend.

Just as Merlin got everything settled in place and was finally sitting down with the cooking pot on one side of him and a few carrots and potatoes in his lap to clean and prepare for dinner, an unexpected strong wind blew up and all Merlin’s hard work was undone.

The wind grabbed the tunics from the trees where they had been hung to dry and sent them fluttering around the camp. The blankets were lifted and blown around, including into the fire. Fortunately, the one blanket that landed on the flames didn’t burn, but it did douse the flames. When he jumped to his feet to rescue their belongings, Merlin managed to send the carrots and potatoes flying, knock over one of the un-stoppered water skins and kick the cooking pot across the clearing.

Looking dejected, the young man only sighed deeply and began gathering up all their belongings before they disappeared forever on the back of another strong wind.

Watching his friend, Gwaine spoke without thinking. “Merlin,” he said, “why don’t you use your magic to set up camp? It would certainly go a lot quicker and be much easier on you.”

“Wha … Gwaine … how …” stuttered the terrified young man as he dropped everything he had been carrying to the ground. _How did Gwaine find out I have magic?_ he screamed internally. Merlin felt his blood turn to ice and sink into his feet. His face was pale, his eyes were wide, he began shaking and he couldn’t catch his breath.

Seeing the results of his unthinking comment, Gwaine quickly came to Merlin’s side and grasping his arm, led him to the nearby log. He pushed Merlin to sit and then, placing his hand on the back of Merlin’s neck, pushed his head down between his knees. “Breathe Merlin. It’s okay. Everything is okay. Just breathe,” coaxed Gwaine.

It took several minutes before Merlin regained control of himself and, raising his head, he looked at his friend. Gwaine had never seen anyone look as scared as Merlin did right at that moment.

“Gwaine,” whispered Merlin through bloodless lips.

“Oh, Merls, I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” said Gwaine with a regretful tone. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“How did … how long … ohhhh,” moaned Merlin as he cradled his head in his hands, tears springing to his eyes. “What happens now, Gwaine?”

“What do you mean, ‘what happens now’? I think that’s pretty obvious. We’re going to get this camp set up before Arthur and the others return, and then we’re going to have dinner and relax by the fire,” answered the knight.

Merlin looked at his friend like he had lost his mind. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he snapped. “I know you’ve got to tell Arthur, but if you have any feelings for me at all, please let me leave before you say anything. I’ll go quietly, I promise,” he added in a whisper.

“Merlin, stop worrying. I’m not going to tell Arthur. From what I’ve seen over the past weeks, you’d never do anything to harm Arthur, though I will admit I was concerned when I first saw you do your magic tricks,” said Gwaine.

“How did you find out my secret?” interrupted Merlin, his voice shaking.

“Well, remember that day when you dropped all those parchments in the puddle? I saw it happen. I was going to speak with you when you took off out the castle like the hounds of hell were after you. I was worried, so I followed you. I found your little hide-away and I was just about to announce myself when I saw you create an image of Lancelot out of sand.”

“Ohhh,” breathed the warlock. “But … you’ve not said anything since then? That was weeks ago!”

“I know. Believe me, originally I had every intention of telling Arthur the minute I got back to the castle but on my walk back, my brain kicked me in the butt and reminded me that this was _you_ , Merlin.”

Gwaine stopped speaking and stared blankly at the ground in front of his feet, his elbows on his thighs and his hands hanging limply between his knees. He couldn’t meet Merlin’s eyes and that one small fact scared Merlin more than Gwaine knowing that he was a sorcerer.

An uncomfortable silence grew between the two men. Merlin shifted on his seat and hunched his shoulders. He was afraid to speak, but he had to say _something_. He was about to open his mouth when Gwaine continued speaking.

“I’ll admit I was scared Merlin, really scared, when I saw you that first time. I was ready to run back to Camelot, find Arthur and tell him everything. All I kept thinking was that you were just like Morgana,” said Gwaine as he gave his friend an apologetic look.

Merlin couldn’t control the small huff of indignation that escaped his lips. Gwaine smiled and said, “I am really sorry that I ever painted you and that … that … _woman_ with the same brush. It was just … well. You know.”

“I do know,” said Merlin in a low voice, “and I think that’s my greatest fear.”

Gwaine’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand,” he said.

“I’m scared all the time, Gwaine. I’m scared that Arthur will find out about my magic; I’m scared that one day something will happen and I won’t be able to control myself; I’m terrified that I’ll become another Morgana – seduced by the power of magic and wanting to use it to control everything and everyone around me.” By the time he had finished speaking, Merlin was once again white-faced and his hand were trembling.

Gwaine reached over and grasped Merlin’s shoulder. “Merlin, don’t worry so,” he said firmly. “First of all, you are _nothing_ like Morgana and could _never_ do the things she’s done. Remember when I said that my first instinct was to tell Arthur all about you, but my brain finally got working?”

“Yeah,” whispered Merlin.

“That’s because I finally remembered that you are the kindest, gentlest, most trustworthy person I have ever known. Merlin, you don’t have a mean bone in your body and I think I know you well enough to say that _nothing_ could ever make you become like Morgana. You are too concerned about others for that to happen! And, now that I know what you can do, I’ll always be there for you and to keep a friendly eye on you. _Always_ , Merlin.”

Merlin stared at Gwaine through his lashes, a mixture of shock, joy and trepidation on his face. “But Gwaine, do you understand the peril you are putting yourself in by not telling Arthur what you know? If he ever finds out that I have magic and that you knew and never said anything …”

“Well,” said Gwaine with a small chuckle, “we’ll just have to make sure that never happens!” After a few moments of silence – a comfortable silence this time – Gwaine continued speaking. “And Merlin, one thing I have learned these past weeks is how much Lancelot meant to you. He knew, didn’t he? He knew you had magic, and he kept your secret.”

Merlin nodded his head, too emotional to speak.

“Well, I’ve seen what you’ve been like without a friend to speak to and … well … I just want you to know that if you ever need someone to rant to, if you ever are looking for someone to listen, I’m here for you. While I know I can never take Lancelot’s place, I’d be honoured if you would allow me to help you in whatever way I can.”

“Believe me, Merlin, it doesn’t matter to me that you can do magic. Gods, I couldn’t care less if you wore a dress and danced a jig every Friday night in the tavern as the evening’s entertainment! All that matters is that you are my friend, and when you are in pain I will do everything in my power to help you.”

Merlin sniffed and dashed his hands across his eyes to wipe away the tears that threated to fall. “Thank you, Gwaine,” he said in a fervent tone. “You have no idea how much your words and your friendship mean to me.”

“Ah, Merls, it’s nothing,” said the dark-haired knight as he jabbed Merlin’s ribcage with his elbow. Looking around the messy clearing, he added, “Enough of this serious talk. Let’s get to work and get this campsite set up before the others return. C’mon,” he said, and standing up he reached down his hand to Merlin.

Merlin looked at the hand, looked up into Gwaine’s face and for the first time in months he smiled; really smiled. He grasped Gwaine’s hand and once he was on his two feet, he pulled the other man in for a quick, but meaningful, hug.

“Thank you, Gwaine,” whispered the warlock. “Thank you for _everything_!”

By the time Arthur and the others returned, bearing with them a few rabbits and a couple of grouse, everything had been put back in order. The horses had been brushed and fed and now stood drowsing in the shade. The tents had been put up, the bedrolls had been dried and placed inside the tents and the various articles of clothing had also been dried and carefully folded. There was a pot of water bubbling next to the fire and the cooking pot was awaiting the addition of the rabbit and fowl.

Arthur was impressed at how comfortable their little home-away-from-home looked, but what left him incredulous was the sound of Merlin’s laughter as he stood at the far side of the clearing, joking with Gwaine. Merlin’s laughter was something he hadn’t heard for months and hearing it now brought home how much he had missed it!

********

The night sky was bright with the moon’s glow and it filled the small clearing with a soft, white light. Arthur’s turn at watch was over and from his seat on a well-placed rock he heard the footsteps of his replacement heading towards him.

Knowing that Gwaine was the one who had the next watch, without turning around Arthur said, “Thank you, Gwaine.”

“Arthur?” asked the dark-haired knight, clearly perplexed by this non-sequitur.

Arthur ceded his place to Gwaine, sheathed his sword and continued, “I don’t know what you said to Merlin while the two of you were setting up camp, but he’s smiled more tonight than in _months_. I even heard him laugh once or twice!”

The two men glanced over to the sleeping form of the man in question. He was just visible through the open flap of the tent he was sharing with Arthur, curled up in his blanket and with only a dark thatch of messy hair exposed.

In a softer tone, Arthur added, “I’ve been really worried about him. He’s been so quiet and withdrawn since Lancelot’s death … and I didn’t know how to help him.”

Gwaine smiled at the sleeping form of his friend, turned back to Arthur and said, “Sometimes, Arthur, people just need reminding that they have friends who love them.”


End file.
